


Mirror Image

by AcidicAce



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (tyrone didn't die and lives with the pines), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon ages, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23872582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcidicAce/pseuds/AcidicAce
Summary: Dipper and Tyrone explore each other in the dead of night.
Relationships: Dipper Pines/Tyrone
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	Mirror Image

Mabel is asleep in the same room. The same freaking room. She’s just a few feet away and you know she could wake up at any second. That’s what the blanket’s for, right? Except even that’s not enough, if she becomes conscious you know she’ll hear you and you know she’ll investigate and oh god she’ll _know_.

But you can’t stop yourself, and you refuse to stop _him_ because it feels way too good. 

She knows about the “relationship.” Of course she does, she knows everything. You _let_ her know everything because she’s your sister, your equal and your opposite, your partner in crime. 

But she can’t know about _this_.

You’re only in your briefs and your socks, and Tyrone is too, and you’re pressed up against him so close you swear you can feel his heart beat against your chest. You’d marvel about him even _having_ a heart if you weren’t so busy biting your lip as he anxiously moves his hips against yours and kisses on your neck.

He’s whimpering against your skin as you rake your nails down his back, and it amazes you that he could ever like that until he’s doing it back and you feel a thrill of pleasure zigzag up and down your spine. It’s not really that painful - well, it _is_ , but there’s something electric to it that has you shuddering against him.

In the darkness you can barely see him, but you know he’s coming in for a kiss by the smell of his breath suddenly so near and you desperately and sloppily lock your lips with his as he rolls his hips against yours again. You’ve had… problems… with your groin before, but you assumed it was nothing because you hadn’t hit puberty yet. Suddenly you know all too well that it doesn’t matter. You may not be capable of getting girls pregnant, but every time he bucks against you your insides tighten up and you feel like groaning.

Mabel shifts across the room, murmuring something, and you both stop and cock your heads. She does nothing else but you’re still afraid. What if she finds out? What will she think? You’re _twelve,_ you shouldn’t even be doing anything more than _holding hands_. You've seen enough goofy sex ed videos in school to know that.

A gasp escapes you as you feel Tyrone’s hand on your belly. It’s small and warm and thrumming with his ungodly life, and its sliding down and you don’t know what to do because you don’t even know what he’s doing… or so you tell yourself. But you know. You know because he’s you, and he’s doing exactly what you would if you were on that side of the bed, able to face Mabel without turning your head.

You’re squirming as his fingers slip into your briefs. He’s going slow, _real_ slow, and you don’t know if he’s being careful or if he’s teasing you. You try to think of what you would do, but then he’s touching you _there_ and it takes all of your willpower to keep from crying out.

He’s exploring you, his fingers twitching every time you gasp or whimper. It suddenly occurs to you that you shouldn’t be the only one writhing around like this. You boldly reach down to the waistband of his briefs, and he goes perfectly still with the tiniest little whimper deep down in his throat. When you slip your hand inside and take firm hold of what’s there, he’s suddenly kissing you more hungrily than he’s ever kissed you before.

Whatever you were thinking before has totally left your mind. You’re desperately kissing each other with your hands stuffed in each other’s underwear and for the first time since you were five you feel the need to use the word “naughty.” That’s how this feels. It isn’t gross, or wrong, or dirty - it’s _naughty_ . You feel like Santa’s written your name on the Naughty List three times already when you eagerly thrust yourself into his hand and whimper against his lips. You’re twelve, for christssake. How _naughty_.

You don’t know what an orgasm feels like until he breaks the kiss and nestles his head under your chin with a quiet moan of your name. Then suddenly, you know exactly what it feels like. That’s all it takes - “ _Dipper…_ ” - and the entire lower half of your body tightens up and releases in a wave of bliss you didn’t know existed.

You return the favor as you bury your face in his hair and whimper “ _Tyrone_ ” as desperately as you possibly can. Maybe you're overcompensating, but you want him to get the same rush you did. Then you feel it in your hand, just a little bit of foreign substance, and you know he’s panting because he just felt it too. 

You withdraw your hands at the same time and neither of you know what to do with them. In the moonlight you observe something sticky between your fingers, and you consider tasting it but decide not to. God knows what’s even in there. You haven’t done _that_ much research on the topic. (Hell, before now, you were kind of grossed out by it.)

Tyrone chuckles quietly as you wipe your hand on a discarded shirt lying beneath the two of you. Then he follows suit before picking the shirt up and tossing it on a nearby pile of dirty laundry. 

He’s head-and-shoulders out from underneath the blanket and you can’t help but marvel at him. He’s still your clone, but in that moment he’s also _Tyrone_ , and he’s not you at all. Silver light traces his slim shoulders and silhouettes his soft, round face in a way that reminds you of the pictures you’ve seen at art galleries. 

And you think, by god, if he looks like that to you then you really must not be an unattractive guy yourself. 

Tyrone snuggles back under the covers and rubs his nose against yours in the cheesiest display of affection you can think of - but you love it.

You love _him_.

Mabel stirs again, and you force yourself to relax because it’s over now and you two probably look like you’re asleep. Half naked, sure, but again - that’s what the blanket’s for.

He doesn’t say a word as he moves closer to you, and you stay silent too as you wriggle against him for a bit before finding a comfortable spot against his shoulder. There are a million things to say, and yet you just can’t say any of them.

Except for one, maybe.

But you don’t have to. You know just by the way he cuddles against you and sighs against your hair that he loves you, too, and he doesn’t regret anything that just happened. 

Tomorrow you’ll think a lot. Your thoughts will race ahead into your forties and you’ll wonder how ashamed you’ll feel if you and Tyrone aren’t even together anymore by then.

But for now, you’re content. His body is warm and you feel like you just accomplished some kind of huge goal because _your_ body is just so dang tired. Your eyelids are drooping and you decide there’s no reason to fight it.

In your dreams, Tyrone and Mabel live with you for the rest of your life and everything is always okay.

**Author's Note:**

> so, fun story about this little ficlet. i was actually called out for it! i had written some other nasty stuff, but this one really got people mad. so mad, in fact, that i decided to take it off my blog. i couldn't just can it, though, so i saved it. 
> 
> fast forward about a year or two and my tumblr was purged in the nsfw ban. i lost a LOT of ficlets and drabbles i'd only ever posted there. but you know what survived? yep, one of my filthiest little oneshots ever. 
> 
> i hope you enjoyed it!


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